


A Crow Flew By

by Fen_Assan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut in Chapter 4, Thedas' Most Bangable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-15 10:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4603095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kmeme prompt fill and another contribution to the Thedas' Most Bangable Collection.</p><p>The unexpected attention Solas receives from a certain visitor to Skyhold leaves his Dalish lover quite amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thedas' Most Bangable Challenge: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ThedasMostBangable/works/4425395
> 
> A big thanks to HigheverRains and Kamille for beta'ing.

Ithilvhen Lavellan watched Ambassador Montilyet place another parchment on top of the neat pile of documents the War Council had already addressed. Josephine attached a new candle to her writing tablet and scribbled a few more notes before continuing. It was her turn. 

"The Inquisition has received a letter from Empress Celene, which I suppose, should be seen as her thank you gift for the help with...the events at Halamshiral. Herself and Marquise Briala send their fondest wishes to the Inquisitor," Ithilvhen, who was standing across the desk from Josephine, acknowledged her nod with one of her own, "and all other members."

Commander Cullen snorted.

"I do not know as much about politics as you do, Josephine, but that hardly seems like a present to me."

The look the Ambassador gave him was akin to that she would give a child who did not want to listen to a boring adult conversation and wanted to play with his toy soldiers instead. Everyone knew Cullen had a deep concern about the affairs of the Inquisition, and the man was indispensable when it came to action. Sinking deep into political affairs was far from his favourite activity but neither was it Ithilvhen's. It was simply necessary so they would have to listen and take part.

"I regret you find politics boring, dear Cullen," Josephine cocked her head and finished her sentence muttering barely audibly, "though I do not comprehend how anyone would." Dalish elf's ears were trained enough to hear, and Cullen looked at her gratefully when Ithilvhen observed, ""I'm afraid quite a few people share Cullen's sentiment, but let's continue. I'd rather be done with it sooner than later." The Ambassador nodded and went on to explain.

"The Empress' wishes are not the gift, of course, though valuable in themselves. She's given us evidence of a Venatori plot against a Nevarran nobleman." As Cullen was still looking at her sceptically, she imparted the most important implication. "If we act appropriately, it will allow us to warn Count Octavian, effectively saving his life, depriving the Venatori of their victim, and winning support for the Inquisition in Nevarra at a single stroke."

Cullen could not argue the significance of that and conceded. Leliana gave a little squeeze to his arm as she walked around him and approached Josephine.

"You have means to arrange that, don't you, Josie? What about your contacts in Nevarra?"

"Of course," Josephine agreed, I believe they are quite capable of carrying out the warning."

Ithilvhen realized she had tuned out of the conversation a bit, seeing her advisers obviously had a simple solution. She had been mentally tracing the Free Marches roads on the map and was not entirely present. She had apparently done too much Inquisiting that day and felt jaded. From the corner of her eye she noticed Josephine raising a brow at Leliana and the Spymaster giving a nod, taking her friend's meaning.

"Inquisitor, there is only one more matter I wanted to bring to your attention. You recall our Lord Enzo and the Venatori venture turned out quite a success, with not a small degree of help from Zevran Arainai. Now, as Lord Enzo is quite dead, as Zevran puts it, the assassin is asking the Inquisition for a favour."

This new development coaxed Ithilvhen's attention back, so she stopped leaning on the desk and straightened. She remembered the story well enough, being interested in it not only in her capacity as the head of the Inquisition, who was supposed to keep tabs on everything that was going on. It fascinated her for more than one reason. It was Leliana at her best, dancing among the flames and not getting burnt. Hiring an assassin to do the job of another assassin whom he had accidentally killed, thus stealing the Antivan Crows' target. Such an act was truly daring and Lavellan admired Leliana's audacity. The excitement of that premise was only further embellished by the allure of finding out something about Leliana's past. She had travelled and fought along Zevran Arainai as both had been companions of The Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. Leliana did not speak much of herself and her past but when she did, the stories were always enticing. She was a marvellous bard, after all. 

"I suppose the Crows aren't happy with Zevran for stealing their target from right under their noses," Ithilvhen stated, searching Leliana's face for any indication of what she thought of it. She did not find any and admitted to herself such a thing was to be expected from her Spymaster. "They got neither coin nor credit. Zevran will need the Crows to lose track of him. What is he asking for?"

Leliana had been nodding her approval of Lavellan's understanding of the situation, and there was a hint of pride in the tiny smile she gave her before answering.

"Well, we do owe him a favour, but I'm not certain this is the right price for his services. He wants to come and stay here with the Inquisition for a while." The Spymaster's face cringed a bit as if she was apologizing for her ex-companion's bold request. Cullen, who did not have a special fondness for assassins and even less so for those who could potentially put his people at risk, jerked out of his chair. 

"He what? What do you mean "for a while"? The Inquisition is not a free-of-charge, well-equipped and well-guarded tavern where you can just...pop up for a few days or weeks when you need to!" Josephine seemed to agree with Cullen for once, but tried to express it more diplomatically.

"Does he want to join or is he seeking refuge? If we harbour an ex-Antivan Crow who's not exactly on good terms with the current Crows, it might put the Inquisition at risk. Politically, if not physically. One would not be wise to get on Antivan Crows' bad side." Leliana shook her head at Josie.

"We have no way of knowing what his intentions are, I'm afraid. I doubt he would want to fully commit to the Inquisition."

Ithilvhen, who had been listening carefully and turning the facts and risks and possibilities over in her head, finally spoke up.

"We let him come. He did do us a considerable service and he might do more. The Inquisition could definitely use someone so skilled, even if he's not part of it. Leliana, do you think he'd agree to do us a few more favours if the Inquisition provided him with protection and sufficient coin?"

The Spymaster laughed and Ithilveh could not help but smile at the sound of it. Leliana should really laugh more often, she thought.

"Sufficient coin should do it, especially combined with the promise of adventure and good company."

The solution pleased Ithilvhen and she was content to finish the War Council with a smile. "That's settled then. Let him know we are awaiting his arrival. And that I'm very eager to meet him."

Leliana squinted her eyes at the elf.

"You're hoping to ferret out some stories about me from him, aren't you?"

"I most certainly hope so, my dear Leliana."

 

The typical exhaustion which accompanied the conclusion of the War Council for Lavellan was that day pleasantly mixed with the anticipation of meeting someone new and interesting. Who was, for a change, not going to try to kill her and everyone around her and possibly end the world as she knew it. She hoped.

In the Main Hall she was intercepted by two visiting Orlesian nobles who were evidently quite desperate for their moment of "close connection to the InquisitOR herself". She did not manage to flee and just stood there with the two ladies, who immediately started gesturing with their lace-gloved hands at her and cocking their heads and speaking some nonsense unrelated to anything of import in overexcited voices. _The Game, Lavellan reminded herself, it's not their fault they seem so strange and unnatural. Being overdressed and overpowdered is all part of the Game and that's their tradition and you respect the traditions of others, Ithilvhen._ She tried to attach a lofty facial expression to her Dalish appearance, gave a curt smile and a nod which meant nothing but could speak volumes depending on one's choice of interpretation.

The Inquisitor's demeanor seemed to delight her guests and they proceeded to ramble on while she assumed a quite sincerely mildly indifferent pose. She peered at the rest of the occupants of the Throne Room and caught Varric looking at her with a silent question "Need any help there?" She barely inclined her head as she flicked an invisible speck of dust off her jacket and the next moment saw him sauntering towards her with a parchment that had appeared in his hand.

Varric clasped his hands behind his back and gave a bow to the Inquisitor and the noble ladies, surprising her again by his knowledge of who was who and how they were supposed to be properly addressed. "Your grace, your ladyship." He turned to Lavellan, brandishing the parchment in his hand in front of the Orlesian guests. "Your Worship, I beg your forgiveness for interfering with your conversation, but I'm afraid your presence is required elsewhere. There's been a missive that calls for your attention. I hope Marquise Wiscotte and Comtesse Elodie will graciously accept my apologies." 

He bowed again and the ladies started waving their hands even more, exultant he was aware of who they were and had showered his slightly ostentatious manners upon them. Lavellan inclined her head to them with the expression of hope to talk to them again soon and followed Varric, having accepted the parchment. He winked at her as soon as they were out of sight of the Orlesians and she sighed and gave him a warm grateful grin.

"I will only accept this "missive" if it is a new chapter of _Swords and Shields._ " She said, unrolling the parchment and pretending to read it.

"A new chapter would never fit on one page and you know it. I'll give you a sneak peek when it's done, don't worry. Although that would mean you risk Cassandra's wrath. You up for a pint later, Your Inquisitorialness?"

"Ah, I don't think so, Varric, sorry. I'm a bit tired, to be honest."

She set the parchment on the desk, took Varric's quill and jotted something down at the bottom of the page. It was a bit scary how good she was getting at all those games. Varric raised his brows at her doing so but leaned in to actually read her message and chortled when he saw she had doodled a face with the tongue stuck out.

"All right, I get it. Go snuggle with Chuckles, or whatever it is you do," he said and waved a hand at her. She smirked, bending to get to eye level with him.

"Oh I can give you a few ideas if you lack material for the next chapter."

"Nope! No, don't wanna know. Don't tell me. Don't even give me any hints. Damn, Lavellan, now I've already imagined Solas doing all the...sex things and I do not want that image in my head!"

She laughed briskly and winked at the dwarf.

"It's fine, I'm happy to keep him to myself."

The door right next to Varric led into the atrium and she felt the familiar tingle of anticipation when she opened it. She hoped Solas would be there because she needed to wrap her arms around him and needed him to kiss her and that pretty much could not wait.

When she reached the doorway leading inside the rotunda, however, she stopped and leaned on the doorframe silently. Solas was working on the next panel of his fresco. He was standing a few steps away from the wall, apparently trying to get a glimpse of the whole picture, judging the proportions or colours. Ithilvhen never had an opportunity to know much about painting, but she was in awe of Solas' work. It was so powerful and so beautiful and it spoke to her with its elven roots. Though she was certain there was something more in there that she did not comprehend, maybe she could not yet but she would learn. 

Solas had his left hand propping up his right elbow, a brush covered in blue paint between his fingers. The image was not yet complete but it was clear the blue was Empress Celene's royal dress. Ithilvhen could not see Solas' face as he was facing the wall away from her but she could very well imagine his expression of deep contemplation. Her gaze travelled down from his clean-shaven head and his broad shoulders, exceptionally so for an elf, to his muscled legs and his bare heels, lingering on the buttocks in the meantime. Her Dalish hunter's sight registered a slightest glint of blue as a drop of paint which had formed on the tip of the brush, slid off but then stopped its fall and just hung in the air about a foot above the floor. She opened her mouth and gasped loud enough for her lover to hear but he had apparently been aware of her presence for a while. He bent gracefully to swipe the brush against the perfectly round drop of paint held in the air by invisible forces and turned to face Ithilvhen with a smirk.

"You seem quite impressed by this simple magic, vhenan." He had set the brush aside on a clay plate and was slowly walking towards her while he chided her playfully. She was still quiet and only kept grinning at him when his hand came up to lift her chin and he gave her a lingering kiss. She put her arms around him and kissed him back, exhaling at that feeling of coming back home she always had in his embrace. When she opened her eyes, he was still giving her that wicked look. She laughed.

"Well, I am impressed because you do not do magic tricks. Your magic, locking enemies in a wall of ice or stepping through the Fade, always serves such an immense purpose and has such a grand effect, I'm amazed you actually do use it like this, just for a little fun."

His arms were now tightly around her, his hands familiarly palming her ass. He let out a low rumble of laughter and moved to nuzzle her ear before responding.

"You do forget the ways in which I use my magic for fun, Ithilvhen. I will do well to rectify that by reminding you."

Ithilvhen felt the slightest sparks of lightening coursing through her body and shuddered with pleasure. She cupped his face and found his mouth in a wanton kiss, finishing it with a bite on his lip. She exhaled and giggled.

"Hello, Solas."

"Vhenan." He kissed her gently this time and he could feel not only her desire but weariness in the sigh she let escape her lips. "Is everything alright, Ithilvhen?" She looked at him with a grateful smile and tugged at his hands.

"It is, as much as it can be with the threat of Corypheus ending the world. I'm just tired. It's been a long day and there's been too much politics involved. And Orlesians." Solas looked both sympathetic and amused as she pulled his hand and started walking towards the large armchair. The mage was well aware of what was expected of him so he settled down into it and let Ithilvhen nestle in his lap, his arm around her back and her bare feet dangling off the armrest as soon as she had kicked off her boots. 

"The Orlesian ways truly do not sit well with you, da'assan. I wish I could help."

"But you do, ma lath. You've been a true hahren," she stressed the word to remind him it was both a joke and the truth, "and have taught me so much already and continue to do so. I'm just rebellious about implementing all that." She winked and nuzzled at his temple. A proud and amused smile playing on his lips, he raked his hand along his lover's back and rested it at the back of her neck.

"How did the War Council go? Any fighting ensue between any of you today?"

"Not really. It was fine, just a lot of things to discuss and decide. I'm amazed at how much my advisers know and remember, and how they manage to make all the connections and make so many decisions."

"It is true they are highly qualified, but you make the decisions all together. And you are the one who carries the most responsibility, so you should be amazed at yourself, vhenan."

"Ahh, flatterer."

Her sweet laughter scattered around the walls of the rotunda. At the sound of it some ravens cawed in the rookery above them and Dorian's head appeared from the library as he peeked down, gave Lavellan a brief wave of his hand and a grin and removed himself before Solas noticed. Or at least he thought so.

"Was that Dorian trying to sneak a look? And he calls that serious reading. The man will jump at any excuse for a distraction."

There admittedly was mockery in Solas' words but she knew her elf had actually managed to do away with the initial animosity between himself and the Tevinter mage. Ithilvhen grew to love Dorian dearly, despite the fact that he was from Tevinter. She knew all the Dalish stories, of course, and she had argued with Dorian about slavery when they had first met. But she had realized he was a good man and that was more important than him being a 'Vint. Them both having experienced the prejudice, the feeling of not belonging and the unrealistic expectations of others gave them too much in common to care where who was from. Now, she could not be happier that her lover's and her friend's instinct had ceased to be the urge to send each other to the Void the moment they had to share the space. Thinking about friends made her remember something.

"Oh, there's some interesting news actually."

"Not about Dorian's legs getting stuck in Bull's horns, I hope?" Solas raised an eyebrow and Ithilvhen was looking at him for a moment with huge eyes and her mouth open, trying to figure out if it was actual news that she had not heard yet or he was only jesting. The voice from above did not include Dorian's head this time, but the human felt compelled to clear up the information, so he made sure he was heard.

"They did not get stuck. And it was only one leg anyway. And I'm fine, thanks for asking, though my head was literally inches from the floor at one point. And I never thought you would be the one to blow this matter so out of proportion, Solas!" Dorian came to lean on the railing and stare down at them as he threw the last sentence accusingly at Solas. Ithilvhen was still sitting on the elf's lap, looking at both men in turn, quite amused at the situation. Solas knew his fellow mage was staring expectantly but did not indulge him by looking back. He turned and faced Lavellan instead as he replied.

"I do not actually blow things, Dorian. I rather much prefer lapping at things." Dorian produced something akin to the disgusted noise that was Cassandra's trademark, but looking at the blushing Ithivhen, he shrugged his shoulders, as if telling her he would accept such a thing just and only because it was apparently something extremely enjoyable for her. 

As Dorian returned to his books, Ithilvhen bit her lip, trying to suppress her laughter. "You do enjoy teasing him, don't you?"

"I thought I was teasing you, vhenan." Ithilvhen stared at Solas, her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and grinned with the expectation of what she knew would happen later. She calmed herself just for now but got to her feet and pulled Solas up too, walking towards the door.

"By the way, that wasn't the piece of news I wanted to impart. Remember the ex-Antivan Crow whose assistance we ended up using in the Lord Enzo affair?" Solas nodded, following her in the direction of her quarters.

"He's coming to Skyhold. I hope we'll manage to talk him into working for us a bit more." The way she announced it showed she was excited beyond what would be expected if she had simply managed to procure another Inquisition agent and Solas knew it.

"And you're hoping to hear first-hand stories of the Hero of Ferelden? And Leliana?"

Lavellan blushed slightly and giggled.

"Of course! I can hardly wait."

As the first door leading to her chamber closed behind them, Solas wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her chin, then the corner of her lips and, finally, her mouth.

"Well, you do have a habit of getting what you want, vhenan."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to HigheverRains for beta'ing. <3

It was quite peculiar that the first thing the Inquisitor saw in Skyhold coming out of her chambers was the throne. Ithilvhen sometimes wondered if it was put exactly there to remind her of her duty, of why she was there and who she was, or actually who everyone expected her to be, every time she emerged from the relative seclusion and privacy of her quarters. She knew, of course, this was the place most suited for a throne, for holding judgment where most people could witness it. But at times, the throne seemed to glare and poke her, pinning her to her position, forcing her to be more Inquisitor, less Ithilvhen. That morning, however, both her heart and her steps were light, and as she opened the door into the Main Hall, she easily ignored the dooming pull of that new Chasind throne, complete with skulls and huge sharp teeth. She only briefly squinted at it, mumbling that it was a rather weird chair. 

The stronghold was always alive with action, be it planning war missions or practicing swordplay, sharing court gossip or arguing over Wicked Grace. The early hour, however, kept the visiting dignitaries out of the Main Hall, mercifully making it a lot quieter than during the day. Inquisition soldiers and messengers and various caretakers were milling about, fulfilling their daily duties. They bowed slightly, nodded, or said “Good morning” to Ithilvhen as she passed. She smiled and nodded back and addressed them all by name, which made their faces light up with enthusiasm and appreciation.

She planned to have a quick chat with Dagna about the new armour they had been working on together, and then sneak into the kitchens to share a bit of breakfast with Solas. She mused they might even be lucky not to be interrupted for a little while.

Dagna was her usual unfathomably cheerful self, and she greeted Ithilvhen as if she was just expecting her, immediately motioning towards the table with a few samples of fabric and chain mail spread out. "Worship! Lovely morning, isn't it! I’ve got all of them here, so take a look and let me know what you think. I've managed to combine the Fade-touched August Ram fur with dragon webbing, which gives a mage great fire resistance AND manipulates their mana pool into using less mana for all spells!" Ithilvhen was feeling the fabric between her fingers but her gaze was drawn by the metal. 

"These do have a sturdy feel to them, and the effects are incredible. But what about these mail samples? Are we still talking mage armour here or..?" Dagna shot a sidelong look in her direction and turned away, pretending to be busy with something else, but not before Ithilvhen noticed the dwarf was beaming.

When the arcanist turned back, her face was completely straight and her tone nonchalant.

"Oh, that,"she paused dramatically. "That is nothing..." Holding her pride, enthusiasm, and breath any longer was beyond her power, and she exclaimed, "Nothing more than a chain mail strong enough to be used in melee but light enough to be used by a mage! And it strengthens magic defence and, in cooperation with the fabrics you've seen, it will tweak the wearer's willpower into giving a better ability to concentrate, thus more spells, stronger spells! And it looks awesome!" 

Having watched the other woman bounce on her feet, fists clenched in front of her, cheeks red with excitement, Ithilvhen laughed cordially, gathered Dagna in her arms and landed a smooch on her cheek. "Dagna, you are amazing! I will want to know everything about how you did that and what else you need to continue with this project. I definitely want this super-cool mail for our mages," she winked. "Will you join Solas and me for breakfast later so we can discuss all the awesome details?" The dwarf looked overflowed with pride and zeal, as she continued beaming but shook her head. 

"Ooo, thank you, Worship, but I had my breakfast hours ago and I'd rather keep working now and tell you everything later. I’ll have more to tell. Maybe even something to show? Something to try on?!" The women shared a friendly laugh. 

"Of course, Dagna, thank you. I'll see you later then." The elven woman turned to leave but paused halfway. "And Dagna, one more thing?" The answer came quick and eager.

"Yes?" 

"Ithilvhen? Give it a try." The normally-never-shy arcanist turned red.

"I'll try harder, Wor..Ithilvhen," and grinned at the wink Ithilvhen gave her before disappearing behind the door. 

The kitchens were full of smells, noises, and people. But the people were all minding their business, the noises had a nice regular and orderly quality to them, and the smells were delicious. Ithilvhen closed her eyes inhaling the fragrant warmth of freshly-baked bread and smiled breathing out. Solas was already at a rough wooden table in the corner, cutting a crusty loaf into perfect slices before Ithilvhen could reach it and break it into irregular chunks with her hands. She gave a little laugh, realizing his intention, and crept up to him quietly. It was hardly possible to take him unawares though. 

"Good morning, vhenan," she could hear he was smiling, which made Solas' voice even more smooth and buttery, fit for perfect breakfast. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her palms to his chest and mumbled her greeting into his back.

She settled on the hard wide bench next to her lover and reached for the jar of fresh milk, her fingers briefly hovering above a bowl of fruit, to pick and throw a few berries in her mouth. 

"Dagna has done something fascinating again. I believe you will find her research results quite enchanting." Her gaze was wandering longingly between Solas' already perfectly executed pieces of food and everything else on the table. He was now busy cutting the ham into gossamer-thin slices, but when he nodded his interest and looked up at her, he stopped, sighed and handed her a piece of hard cheese.

"Go on, stab it. You look like you won't be happy otherwise." Ithilvhen laughed and grabbed the cheese, her eyes twinkling, and started carving small pieces with a tiny dagger she had pulled out from her boot in one invisible motion. Solas smirked at her expression of utter joy and could not resist leaning in and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"Ah! Chuckles being all touchy-feely, and her Inquisitorialness stabbing the cheese, a scene of domestic bliss worthy of the quill of a genius. You're lucky you got one right here," Varric proclaimed and sat across the table from Ithilvhen, inviting himself for breakfast by taking a healthy helping of ham, cheese, and bread, and stuffing it all in his mouth. Ithilvhen smiled her good morning, but Solas limited his greeting to something on the boundry of a friendly grumble. "Chuckles, if that look is supposed to fry me on the spot, it's not working," Varric commented without looking up at the mage, gathering another handful of carefully prepared food. "Oh! It is working actually! Makes me want some fried eggs! Did you make any?" he enquired with a perfectly innocent expression.

"I am not frying any eggs for you, Varric. And that ham was not exactly meant for you either, but I suppose I can do nothing to help your vests.”

“My vests? What about them?”

“I’m afraid the burden of holding your...chest is becoming heavier every day.” His look of slight distate and disapproval did nothing to turn Varric off the food in general or of stealing others' food. 

"Nice try, Chuckles, but there's no way you can get rid of me and my magnificent chest hair. You just make such perfect breakfast."

Ithilvhen licked the butter off her fingers, grinned, and bumped her head into Solas' shoulder as he sat down next to her. The jibes between Solas and Varric were good-natured, mostly, and the atmosphere was still pleasant, even if not so intimate anymore. She smiled at the rogue. 

"Your chest hair is undoubtedly magnificent, dear Varric, just keep it out of our food, will you?" He made a movement that was apparently supposed to pass for a gracious bow but as he was sitting and the sides of his vest did open up on his stout trunk, it looked quite comical as quite a few crumbs nested in the famed hair.

"Mmh," Varric gestured, announcing he needed everyone's attention, but continued chewing. Solas ignored him in favour of savouring some jam on a crust of bread but Ithilvhen looked up, working her jaws around the cheese with appetite.

"I actually came to tell you some news," Varric finally imparted. Solas' brow curved into a mocking arch.

"Oh, so gobbling up someone else's breakfast was not your primary intention? I am relieved."

The dwarf dipped his head affirmatively, "I serve to please, Chuckles, and you know it." He turned his attention to Ithilvhen. "There's been a crow," he gave her a look like she was supposed to understand, but she had no clue what he was talking about.

"And? What's the message?" 

Varric sighed, putting away a slice of bread, but picked up a small biscuit instead and went on munching.

"I guess you'll have to ask him yourself. I can't figure out his agenda."

The initial look of confusion on Ithilvhen's face morphed into genuine excitement. She caught herself on time to lower her voice before exclaiming, "Zevran Arainai is here?"and in an even lower voice, "how do you even know about him?"

Varric's face assumed the expression of someone weary of the burden of all the information and knowledge they possess.

"My dear Lavellan, are you seriously going to insult me by even suggesting there's something going on here that I don't have my only slightly hairy fingers in or at least know about?" Ithilvhen gave him a teasing smile and opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Varric's confession.

"Nightingale let me in on the secret 'cause I'd met the elf while...you know, doing stuff with Hawke back in Kirkwall." Ithilvhen nodded slowly, trying to retrieve a piece of food stuck in her teeth with her tongue.

"Right. You have stories about him I haven't heard, I'm sure?" The dwarf made a move as if to lean back casually but remembered he was sitting on a bench without the backrest. He cleared his throat.

"Sure, happy to help."

Solas rubbed his hand along Ithilvhen's back. "Do you want to meet him before your other obligations?" The realization that the assassin was actually already there in Skyhold dawned on her and she nodded at Solas and reached for a few more pieces of fruit, but the bowl was not there. Varric was holding it in one hand, half way to throwing the last berries in his mouth with the other. Having noticed her questioning look, he shrugged his shoulders and, stopping his hand right in front of his mouth, extended it offering the few berries to her. 

"Er, thanks, I'll pass." She stood from the bench and almost bumped into Solas who had just returned to the table with a handful of berries on his palm. Ithilvhen beamed, gathered them in her mouth right off his hand, leaving a kiss on his palm and a blush on his cheeks.

Varric turned away pointedly with a bit of a disgusted noise, "Ugh, what's wrong with you, Chuckles? You're too sweet and that's just wrong!" Solas lifted a brow and gave him a mocking bow.

"I will make amends by showing less gentle sides of my personality in your presence, master dwarf." As the rogue was getting up grunting in response, his feet landed on something slippery and went in different directions, so he had to flail his arms about to regain the balance. When he finally did a few steps away and looked at the floor to determine the culprit, his glare immediately turned to Solas, "You!"

Solas only smirked in response as the thin layer of magical ice disappeared without a trace.

"This has been a fine dance, Master Tethras. In Antiva it would be much appreciated during the feast of Satinalia. You might even compete to be the ruler of the day." The suave voice with a clear Northern accent belonged to a blond elf who was leaning on one leg, the other crossed in front of it in a triangle, one elbow on a wooden beam for both casual look and support. His appearance caught the eye of not only the small breakfast party but quite a few cooks and serving girls, who were now only pretending to do their work. 

Varric eyed the man, physically unable to look down at him, with a hint of contempt. "I'm no town fool, Crow, and you'll be smart to remember that."

The newly-arrived man laughed openly and it was both a pleasing sound and sight, "I apologize. And I am impressed by your knowledge of Antivan customs." As he bowed, Ithilvhen stepped forward with a smile. 

"Zevran Arainai, I presume?" The elf bowed lower this time. 

"At your service," his "r"s rolling off his tongue. She extended her hand towards him in what was a shemlen gesture but seemed appropriate in the circumstances.

"Ithilvhen Lavellan," she inclined her head without ever losing eye contact as his hand joined hers in a firm handshake. "The Inquisitor," she added as a minor detail she almost forgot to mention.

The assassin never stopped smiling contentedly, "So you're the one the good sister so admires."

Ithilvhen's "Admires?" was accompanied by Varric's loud snort, "The good sister? Don't tell me you're calling Nightingale that and you're still alive?"

Solas stepped closer, an expression of mild amusement on his face, "You," he pointed his chin at Varric, "have been known to call people by worse names and you are still around." 

Zevran cast a long gaze at Solas, which Ithilvhen curiously read as an indication of interest, as she knew the assassin had already had a good look at all and each of them. Now the Antivan curved his brow and bared his teeth in a smile that felt both charming and dangerous, "I have not had the pleasure. Not yet, at any rate." 

Solas' bow was as curt as his introduction, "I am Solas."

"Zevran," the other elf took the opportunity to use his first name only, "most pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Now that you're done with the pleasantries, and might I say we've had enough," Varric scoffed, "can we move on to doing something other than dancing around being weirdly and unnecessarily polite?"

Zevran swirled on his feet to present the dwarf with a smuggest face, "If I recall correctly, it was you who treated us all to a lovely dance." Varric looked like he was ready to stuff the words back down the elf's throat but he composed himself and spread his arms in a merry bow.

"Glad you enjoyed it. That's what good hosts do, provide entertainment." 

Ithilvhen blushed at that remark and swiftly turned an affable smile to Zevran, "I must apologize for not being as hospitable as is due. Is there anything I can help you with? Anything you need? Have you seen Leliana yet?" She remembered the right questions to ask all at once. The man nodded, a smile of his own playing on his lips.

"Indeed I have. Dear Leliana introduced me to your lovely Ambassador and they both tried to put me into nice chambers and have servants bring me food and wine, but I managed to convince them I'd be fine fetching something from the kitchens myself. Hence I'm here." It was clear from his expression his kind of convincing was all sweet smiles and lavish compliments targeted at lulling the ladies into forgetting what they had suggested in the first place. Ithilvhen was sure, however, that Leliana would not be so susceptible to the Antivan's charms, so she made a mental note that her spymaster had actually wanted her to meet Zevran that way.

"I'll make arrangements for food and drink at once. Do you have any preferences?"

His answer seemed to be the exact opposite of what was true. "Oh, I have simple tastes, dear Inquisitor, but I would hate to hold you off your many duties of high importance. I'll be fine by myself." That, of course, was not going to happen for multiple reasons. Remaining with him herself would probably be the wrong move though, Varric was notably not eager, so she was grateful to Solas, who, knowing all that, saved the situation.

"I will be happy to make arrangements and keep our guest company," the mage suggested, making the offer even more polite by adding, addressing Zevran, "if you don't mind, of course." The latter's eyes flashed with...amusement? Anticipation? Could it be...desire?

"Now-now, how could I ever? It is most generous of you to spare your precious time for your humble servant."

"Well, that escalated quickly," Varric mumbled as he was leaving the kitchens and threw his hand in the air by way of a goodbye. "Have a good elven time, you two."

Ithilvhen added somewhat confused, "Indeed, enjoy your time in Skyhold, and..." Her gaze switched from her lover to her guest and back, and, not yet sure she should disclose their romance in front of him, she opted for not kissing Solas goodbye. Instead she gave him a meaningful look, hoping he would read her reasoning, together with a promise of making it all up to him later. She left with a smile and, "I hope to see you both soon." 

***  
As the two men were left alone, the silence settled for a moment while each sank in his own thoughts. Solas was the first to snap out of it.

"Shall I make a selection from our food stores?" The other elf's lips stretched into a charming smile as he murmured.

"I will most certainly enjoy your choice, Messere Solas."

Solas made sure his face remained neutral as he replied, "I hold no title with the Inquisition, so simply Solas."

"Oh? You are a member of the Inquisitor's inner circle though, are you not? I have no doubt your...talents are extremely valuable for the Inquisition." Solas ignored the fact that Zevran was shadowing him, sweeping between tables and shelves and walk-in larders, as he was collecting foods on a tray. 

"I am a mage," he volunteered the bit of information he was willing to share, "and I am considered an expert on the matters of the Fade." Zevran stepped behind a shelf full of wheels of cheese and handed over the sizable wedge Solas was reaching for. He took the cheese carefully by the crust, avoiding the contact of their fingers. From the corner of his eye he noticed Zevran smile at it.

"Are you?" the amber eyes were drilling into the stormy blues. 

Solas blinked at him in slight confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Are you a Fade expert?" One corner of the mage's lips twitched with a smile that did not fully form.

"Indeed I am. Would you prefer tea or coffee?"

Before he gave his response, Zevran reached for the loaf Solas was carrying, broke off some crust and flicked it in his mouth with a laugh. The familiarity of the gesture earned him no approval from Solas but no remark either. The older elf was watching patiently, trying to unmask the other man's intentions.

"I come from the country which is home to the best coffee in Thedas, so I've had no choice but to be spoilt by the best of it. Oh! The colour, the fragrance, the taste! Most people are used to the nutty coffee flavour but they're missing so much."

The blond elf was leaning towards Solas as if about to reveal a secret. "Did you know coffee can taste almost flowery, like sweet-basil? Or fruity, like blackberries, or even caramelly, like honey?" Solas paused to watch Zevran with mild amusement at his gusto and their shared, even though he was not about to admit to that, appreciation of delicacies. The other man's behaviour was quite intriguing, and Solas wondered if it would have been the same with Ithilvhen there instead of himself. There was no way of knowing, but he was fairly certain he would not enjoy the man's flirtatious attitude towards his vhenan. At the same time, he was still uncertain if Zevran actually was flirting with him. _Garas quenathra?_ he wondered. 

The guest was now perched on the edge of the table near Solas, fingers of one hand up in a pinch grip. He closed his eyes briefly and sniffed as if trying to bring back a certain scent. "My favourite must be the spicy one though." His eyes opened, gazing at Solas, unblinking, "pungent and smoky, a little burnt even. As if...by mageflame." The assassin broke eye contact only for a second, to swirl around and sit on the opposite bench, a treacherously ingratiating smile playing on his lips, "So all those fine tastes have left no space for tea in my preferences."

Solas' gaze did not falter as he agreed, "I must admit I detest the stuff myself. And," he surprised himself by sharing what he said next, "I harbour a certain weakness for hot chocolate." Zevran's laughter was a low rumble.

"Sweet and spicy do fit well together."

The statement made Solas' brow lift, but he decided it was nonsense and lowered the brow back. What were the chances this young man was indeed attracted to him? As of late, and that had been a long time, he was only used to being pursued as the scholar Solas, the rift mage Solas, not the man behind the masks of qualifications, skills and names. The assassin's now quite obvious interest must have been nonsense. A dangerous nonsense perhaps, because it well could have been a game he was playing. Trying to get close to the Inquisitor, the Inquisition's secrets and resources, or both? Though flattering the attention might have been, it was too unexpected and too improbable, thus suspicious. It would be wise to keep an eye on that Antivan, at least until they knew his plans and intentions. And probably especially then. 

Slowly savouring his food, Zevran complimented on its quality as well as Solas' choice. His mmms and ahhhs were interrupted by a question which was supposed to take him unawares, but Solas was alert enough not to show surprise.

"Are you a believer, Solas? Did you find it hard to join the mage rebellion against the Chantry?" The abrupt change of subject did not throw him out of his comfort zone, on the surface at least.  


"I have never belonged to a Circle."

"An apostate then, fascinating! I knew some apostates. Some I wish I didn't, haha! There was this witch back during the blight, when I accompanied the Hero of Ferelden..." Zevran looked like he could tell multiple stories about her, useful stories perhaps, but Solas was not entirely convinced the ex-Crow truly did not know. He figured it would be counterproductive to withhold that information from the Antivan. They did want him on their side, for what it was worth. 

Solas contained his grin down to a slight smirk. "Lady Morrigan has in fact joined the Inquisition efforts lately." Zevran played out his surprise as mirth.

"I should like to tell you I'm most grateful for and delighted with your company, dear Solas. We have much in common."

Holding his cards close to his chest, Solas smiled at Zevran with understanding nonetheless. After all, it could be genuine. The half-hidden flash of terror across his face at the possible repercussions of referring to Morrigan as a witch. Solas was also aware his own recognition of Morrigan in the not flattering description had in a way put him on the same side with Zevran.

Solas’ second breakfast was for all intents and purposes over, but Zevran still lingered at the table, playing with fruit between his fingers. Perhaps he was buying time? For what? Looking to trade information? Trying to buy friendship in a new place? Truly flirting with him due to genuine attraction? He honestly did not know if he should play along to find out more. He tried to guess Ithilvhen's reaction when he would tell her, _"Vhenan, I believe the elven assassin you invited to Skyhold is shamelessly flirting with me, but, to tell you the truth, it's been so long since someone was actually attracted to me, I cannot tell if it is genuine."_ No, that was not true. After all, she was attracted to him for more than that knowledge. She loved him. She wanted him. And he knew she loved being with him, because she said and because he saw that. Maybe that would even make her the best judge of the current situation. Maybe she would be able to read Zevran’s intentions better than himself. He would have to talk to her soon. But he also needed to do something without delay as the Antivan was still sitting there, smiling and throwing come-hither looks his way. It was his call. The best way he knew to indulge vain men was to lure them into speaking about themselves. 

"May I ask you a question? If you won't think it prying, that is," Solas started tentatively. Zevran shifted on the bench, slowly and deliberately hovering a berry close to his lips.

"Oh, by all means, pry away." Solas cleared his throat, a tad bashful at the situation and where it could lead. He would hate to appear coy. 

"Your tattoos. They are not of Dalish origin. Is there a special meaning to them? Or are they simply for...decoration?"

Solas' question was followed by a train of thought which made him blush. _Am I as a matter of fact flirting with Zevran? What will Ithilvhen think? Will she find it ridiculous? Infuriating? Exciting? Could she herself be interested in this man? With his feline moves, alluring looks and hedonistic speeches? Could she want this young dashing elf more than myself?_ He used to be dashing, a long long time ago. Oh, so dashing. But no. He had to put a stop to those thoughts and concentrate on the conversation. Ithilvhen and himself were true in their devotion and certain in their love enough to not make it a secret for the Inquisition any longer. None of them was interested in having an affair on the side. So no one was going to have any...romantic encounter with this man or anyone else. 

As Solas almost convinced himself, he realized he had managed to make himself jealous. Jealous without Ithilvhen giving him a reason to be, while he himself was currently occupied with flirting. And that was uttterly ridiculous. That was when he blushed and cleared his throat again.

Zevran was smiling rather lewdly.

“My-my, such good questions you ask." _If he were any more velvety and smooth, he would turn into a plush version of himself,_ Solas thought irritably, mad at himself rather than the other elf.

"They are Antivan. Some symbols are sacred to the Crows. I am not permitted to tell you what they mean, I'm afraid." He gave a smile Solas presumed was supposed to be both apologetic and promising. He traced the lines on his own cheek. "These are not the only ones. Others are there to accentuate the lines of the body... its curves and musculature. I...could show you if you'd like. It is hard to explain with armour and clothing on."

He was indeed wearing light leather armour, beautifully made, and that was the safe route Solas was taking. The risqué remark erased all possible doubts about the flirtatious nature of Zevran's conduct. Solas shifted his gaze from the assassin to study his own fingernails before facing him again.

"This armour, it is a true testament to craftsmanship." The Antivan got up to his feet, flashed a lascivious smile first at Solas and then at a passing kichen maid, whose cheeks flushed the same colour as the carrots she was carrying.

"It is such a rare pleasure to meet a man of enough knowledge and taste to appreciate fine crafts. This armour was made by none other than Wade of Denerim. It is of finest leather and dragon scale. So light it is incredible how hard it is. But so smooth on skin, too."

Solas remained seated all through the speech, looking up. He had to admit the man's seduction technique was not half so bad, if only too direct. Solas felt the longing for the slow sweetness and torture of seduction as it had been in the days and years of Arlathan. Or it might have been only lathbora viran. 

Finally noticing, or quite probably only now deciding to notice the incredulous looks the kitchen staff were shooting their way, Zevran stopped only a foot away from Solas and leaned on the table. "It was a present from the Hero of Ferelden herself. I will always cherish it." Having sipped the last drop of coffee from his cup, he appeared ready. "My dear Solas, would it be so awful of me to trouble you for a tour of this magnificent castle? I sense you have a well of stories to share about its history."

Solas mentally applauded the other elf for playing just the right card. His smile was genuine, "I do have a deep appreciation of history." He made a brief pause for the thought on how he was eventually going to get out of the situation he was helping create, but shoved that thought to the back of his mind. He had joined whichever game the assassin was playing. He got up. "It will be my pleasure to show you Tarasyl'an Te'las and disclose a few of her secrets. For they are numerous and elusive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translations:
> 
> Garas quenathra? - Why are you here?/Why have you come?  
> lathbora viran - Roughly translated as "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. The story has extended itself into 4 chapters instead of 3, but the final one will be posted soon, I promise. :) Thanks for reading, everyone, and comments are always welcome!
> 
> A big thanks to HigheverRains for beta'ing.

Ever since the Inquisition forces had established their new home in Skyhold, it had been a place full of life and action and constant change, which meant its residents also felt a need for stability. It was granted by the routine that helped everyone feel they were living a more regular and grounded life than they truly were. Solas was aware he had always been an example of such a constant. Had anyone needed him, they knew where he could most likely be found. The place Solas was ultimately linked to was of course the rotunda. There he would grace the walls with frescoes of unexpected power and vivacity or pour over thick, dusty tomes and fragile ancient scrolls. His deft fingers and a bit of magic, unrecognizable were anyone to witness it, managed to salvage most of those from crumbling. Apart from that he would be seen in the gardens, engaging in discussions with herbalists about the plants and potions; or in the Undercroft, indulging Dagna with a conversation on the matters of the arcane; or else in the Infirmary, assisting healers and physicians. As of late, those Inquisition members who found themselves in the Throne Room would often see Solas entering or leaving the Inquisitor's private chambers. That was why everyone from soldiers and messengers to servants and advisers, and just about anyone who had certain expectations of Solas' behaviour and areas of interest within the hold, were taken by surprise.

What no one expected to see was the apostate climbing the battlements without the intention of talking or playing chess with the Commander, visiting the training grounds while the Inquisitor was not in her training session, and ending up in a tavern. It was even more unusual that during the whole walk around Skyhold he was accompanied by an unknown male elf. The elf who was smiling his way around, pointing at people, things and places, asking questions and offering commentary. By the time the two elven men were crossing the courtyard to reach the tavern, Herald's Rest, as most of Skyhold, was abuzz with gossip.

It had never been part of Solas' plan to visit the tavern. He had in fact devised a route which would have allowed him to drop Zevran off in the hands of the Ambassador. But that, as so many other things in his life, was not to be. During the hour and a half of acquainting Zevran with the parts of Skyhold he judged it safe to show, Solas kept hoping they would chance upon Ithilvhen, but sadly, she had been otherwise engaged. In answering the assassin's questions, Solas stuck to his routine, explaining his vast knowledge by years of wandering the Fade and thumbing through the pages of countless books. It pleased him those were not untruths. He was careful to avoid imparting any information that could compromise the Inquisitor's safety, or the Inquisition’s. That had not been so demanding a task, but combined with balancing the conversation away from Zevran's attentions, the mage had hoped the tour was at an end. That was when the Antivan enquired:

"Dear Solas, this castle is truly magnificent, but it seems as if the Inquisition is all about work-work-work. I'm certain there has to be a corner here devoted to some entertainment. The members of this mighty organization surely deserve a bit of pleasure, do they not?" Zevran’s lips stretched in a cheeky grin, while Solas’only twitched with a polite little smile. He was certain that was a bad idea, but he could find no good reason to deny a visit to the tavern, so he had to comply and point in the right direction. 

"Indeed they do. Herald's Rest, where most of Skyhold's entertainment is to be found, offers a range of drinks of varying poor quality, and in fact very decent food."

"In my book an inn is not a place to go to in search of decent things, if you know what I mean." Zevran winked and headed towards the entrance. It took Solas three long strides to place himself ahead of the other elf, just in time to reach for the handle. He was however forced to retreat immediately, effectively bumping into Zevran behind him as the door opened right in their faces, Solas’ being flushed with embarrassment. One might have expected a huge Qunari making such an exit, but instead, they had to lower their gazes to meet the laughing eyes of a female dwarf responsible for the act. Zevran looked intrigued and, with a brilliant smile, declared:

"This is an impressive exit, my Lady. I would not like to get on your bad side." He bowed slightly, never averting his eyes, and added, "Not that I can see any bad sides on you." An uncontrollable giggle escaped her, and Solas felt he had to intervene.

"Scout Harding, I hope you are well." She straightened up and collected herself quickly.

"Solas, I'm sorry I almost hit...you two with the door." She smiled and her gaze darted from one man to the other. When Solas made no move to make introductions, she coughed encouragingly and looked at each of them in turn again. Solas gave her a nod and a smile which was polite, warm, and dismissing all at once. Her perplexed expression told him he was clearly not behaving like himself, but dealing with it now was not a priority.

"That is fine, no trouble at all," and he stepped aside, swiping his arm to let her pass, or, to be exact, to make her pass. Which she did, only slightly confused, looking back at the two as she was walking away.

Thankfully, the tavern was not full, and the first thing Solas noticed with immense relief, was that Iron Bull was not present. He did not think it was wise to let the assassin and the former Ben Hassrath meet before he could make sure Bull had been briefed.

As they sat at a remote table with the restricted view of the rest of the tavern, which Zevran did not seem too happy about, most patrons did not go back to their business but kept looking their way instead. A whisper started spreading, the expression of their surprise at seeing Solas in Herald's Rest without the Herald. Even the grumpy bartender was intrigued enough to grace them with taking their order personally. Solas greeted Cabot and asked for his best wine for the Inquisitor's guest and himself. Cabot gave Zevran a hard look before articulating in his gritty voice:

"The Inquisitor's guest, is it? I'll bring you a bottle of my best Antivan." The assassin smiled at him.

"Such heartwarming hospitality, I am most grateful." Cabot cleared his throat and paled slightly at the guest's Antivan accent. When he left, Solas felt amused enough by the situation to share it with Zevran.

"I believe your origin has interfered with his plans. Which means we might actually end up having some decent wine, and not what he claims to be his best Antivan." Zevran laughed heartily, leaned closer against the table and put his hand on Solas' arm as he uttered, lowering his voice:

"Ah, dear Solas. I wonder if you could be persuaded to abandon your love of all things decent." A blush started creeping up Solas' cheeks as he jerked his hand away at those words, which coincided with Cabot returning to their table with the wine. The dwarf set the bottle and two glasses on the table with a loud clink and a look which Solas felt was meant to drill a hole in his head. The mage managed a thank you, but the bartender did not move, instead swinging a piece of dirty cloth over his shoulder and resting his fists on his hips. When Solas faced him, the dwarf's lips were a thin murderous line. He held the gaze and tried again.

"Thank you, that will be all." As Cabot finally left with a derogatory scoff, Solas was torn between conflicting feelings. He was utterly grateful for how protective the Inquisition's people were of their leader, seeing they would not condone any of her love interest’s questionable behaviour. With some already scandalized enough at the Herald of Andraste taking an apostate mage for a lover, any sign of him being even close to unfaithful would not be tolerated. It made his heart warm to see Ithilvhen surrounded by people who had her back. And with that appreciation he also felt mortified that everyone would think he sat there accepting a man's advances. He had no idea how to go about telling Zevran he was not interested. There was a chance he would end up looking like a fool, but it was better he made a fool of himself than of Ithilvhen. He knew his future with her was uncertain at best, but whatever he would have to do one day, he knew he could never be unfathful or disrespectful to her. As the guilt clawing at his heart was not for what he had actually done, he wondered if it was for what was to come in the future. In any case, the current state of events was making him extremely uncomfortable, to the point of causing pangs of panic.

Zevran was silently lounging in his chair, swirling and sipping the wine, and taking an opportunity to examine the other tavern patrons above the rim of his glass every time he sniffed its contents. He looked pleased. He must have found the entertainment he was looking for in the tavern after all. Solas realized there was a full glass of wine in front of him as well. He presumed Zevran had filled it, but it shocked him he had not noticed. How long had he been caught up in his thoughts? How long had they been quiet? Long enough for another moment to not matter, he reasoned. He looked down and took a slow deep breath to calm down and focus. With the murmur of voices around them, which he knew were talking about him, both took considerable effort.

Solas lifted his head earlier than he was comfortable with, but the situation had to be dealt with, not solely for Ithilvhen’s and his sake, but to be fair towards Zevran as well.

"Zevran," he started in a somewhat strained voice, "I must apologize if what I'm going to say has no grounds after all, and if I have mistaken your amity for something else, but..." The most uncomfortable speech was interrupted by a puff of smoke, a large hat, and a worried, hurried exhale of the voiced torment.

"Flustered, flattered, he feels faulty, at fault." This required immediate attention. Solas faced the boy and addressed him softly but firmly.

"Cole, it is alright. You don't need to do this." But the boy insisted, his agitated blinking stirring the fringe of his hair as he turned from Solas to Zevran.

"Staring, stirring, seeking to be sated, to sate."

"Cole," Solas repeated firmly, but the boy kept spilling the thinly veiled truths, turning a puzzled look from one man to the other.

"Seeking the heat, the grip and burn, the hurt and bliss. I...don't understand. Why does he want to be on fire?" he asked, facing Solas. So there it was, the truth laid bare. The mage rubbed at his forehead, lifted the glass, gave the wine a single swirl and then downed the entire thing. He saw Cole's confusion and unease mounting as the spirit felt his friend's distress, and started fidgeting.

"It is fine, Cole. We shall talk later and I will explain." Cole still looked uncertain and guilty and only Solas' long insistent gaze made the boy still for a moment, then nod and disappear in his fashion, only without smoke this time. Zevran looked as if he was calculating, but kept getting five out of putting two and two together. He started off with a smile nonetheless.

"This Cole seems to be a fascinating character. Very good at reading people, wouldn't you say?" Solas nodded, avoiding eye contact.

"Indeed. The boy is very special and uniquely talented. Likely the best at subterfuge in all of the Inquisition." Zevran seemed to agree with the assessment.

"I did recognize a fellow assassin, but I'll admit even Antivan Crows could learn a thing a two from this boy." Solas had nothing to answer to that, this whole situation left him drained. He felt cornered and started looking for a chance to flee.

He knew they were watched, but there was a nagging feeling of someone in particular not taking their eyes off him and trying to attract attention by means of their willpower alone. Looking up past Zevran he noticed Krem sitting in his usual place in the corner. The Charger's expression told Solas he had witnessed most of the scene, and more importantly, the slightest incline of his head in his direction must have been a sign he was ready to help. Solas mirrored the gesture, taking care to be discreet. Krem drank up his ale, banged the tankard on the table and got up. In a few steps, accompanied by a few handshakes and shouted comments, he reached the table where Solas and Zevran were locked in silence.

The Tevene made a show of having his back towards them as he approached, throwing a jibe across the room to Dalish, who sent him off with an obscene gesture. His surprise at seeing Solas was acted out better than the mage would have expected of the warrior. It might have been that some Ben Hassrath training of his boss had been rubbing off on him.

"Solas! Didn't expect to see you here, at this time of day, and year." Solas was grateful for both Krem's jibe and his smirk which relieved a tiny little bit of tension. Before he opened his mouth though, the response came from Zevran.

"Solas has been kind enough to show me around this magnificent fortress," he said, flashing a smile Krem's way, and locking eyes with Solas, "and I appreciate it greatly. It has been a true pleasure." Solas nodded graciously and offered Krem a seat.

"Please. Let me introduce the guest of the Inquisitor, Zevran Arainai." He gave the Charger the freedom to introduce himself as he saw fit.

"Cremisius Aclassi, second in command to Bull's Chargers. Everyone calls me Krem." They shook hands, and there was clear interest and recognition on Zevran's face.

"The quite well-known mercenary company, is it not? How did you find yourself working for the Inquisition?" Taking his cue from the favourable turn the conversation was taking, Solas judged it was his best chance to flee. He interrupted before the moment was gone.

"I do apologize, gentlemen, but I will have to take my leave, with your permission. I do have a few tasks to attend to." Zevran looked disappointed, but Krem waved him off almost enthusiastically.

"Sure, I'll keep our guest company. The Chargers have enough stories to pass an afternoon. Our guest might enjoy the change of subject from ancient history." He smiled and winked at Zevran and gave Solas an "I got your back" kind of look, which the elf appreciated greatly. He felt like squeezing Krem's shoulder but thought better of it. Such a gesture would probably be strange coming from him, so he decided he would show his gratitude with a pint of something good later.

Now, when he was so close to freeing himself from the confines of this ridiculous situation, Solas felt quite shocked when Zevran got up to say goodbye. It was nothing unusual, simply very polite, but it stood out in the tavern, and his nerves were simply too strained already. 

"Thank you for your time and for the tour, Solas. It's been a treat, and I hope to have a chance to speak to you again soon." He gave him a little bow, which Solas returned if only slightly hastily.

"By all means. I will see you later." Solas made an effort not to run out of the tavern, but he needed to be away from everyone as soon as possible. He saw people bringing their heads together, whispering as he was leaving. That was why, once he was outside, he took a right turn instead of turning left to get to the rotunda through the Main Hall. Right now he could not bare walking through the whole Courtyard and speaking to people on his way. Once on the battlements, he entered the first tower, which was thankfully still unrepaired and thus empty. Skipping steps, he climbed the rickety stairs all the way up to stand on the roof and catch a breath of cold air and some wind in his face. In a minute or two he returned inside the tower and Fade-stepped into the rotunda. He sank into the deep seat of his shabby armchair, put a book in his lap, opening it at a random page, and closed his eyes, exhaling and rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to fend off a headache.

***

The first thing that jumped out at Ithilvhen when entering the rotunda was a small bucket of paint which looked already mixed, and a few brushes sorted carefully by size lying next to it on the floor. Only one brush had been used by the looks of it, and she automatically scanned the surface of the walls to see where Solas had been working. But she only discovered one new smear. Solas himself was nowhere to be seen. He must have been interrupted while painting and had to leave, she gathered. She was debating whether to stay and wait or to go looking for him, when a familiar yet strange sound alerted her to his presence, along with his gasped 'vhenan'. She swirled to face him, and her brows furrowed at the strangeness of him standing in the middle of the small round room, looking surprised to see her. He had to be really deep in thought not to notice her right after he had opened the door. Oh. She had never heard the door opening.

"Solas, have you just...Fade-stepped in here?" She asked tentatively, her eyebrows raised in bafflement, but a soft curious smile playing on her lips. He straightened up for a second and lifted his chin as if meaning to give an answer, but the next moment just slumped his shoulders with an exhale and stepped closer, wrapping her into his arms and settling his chin on the top of her head. She hugged him back, but, slightly worried, did not drop her questions. She did not lift her head when she asked, letting tenderness colour her voice:

"Ma sa'lath, are you holding me like this so that I don't see your face when you answer?" The response came muffled by his lips moving against her hair.

"Yes. And because I want to hold you." She smiled, endeared, and embraced him tighter, silent, waiting for him to continue. A few moments later he sighed deeply and pulled her away but rested his hands on her shoulders, keeping her at arm's length. He was looking her straight in the eyes as he finally forced the words out.

"I did Fade-step, both outside the rotunda and back in, because I was hiding. It was foolish and cowardly and I am truly ashamed. I feel I have disgraced both myself, and more importantly, you. Ir abelas, vhenan. Truly." He looked like he meant and believed every syllable he had said and that made Ithilvhen uneasy. She had heard some of the gossip on her way from the War Council, but she had dismissed it as a joke, or a ridiculous misunderstanding. Could there be anything to the rumours? There was no point in wondering.

"Solas, are you certain you're not exaggerating? Why don't you tell me what happened exactly. Please. I'm sure it's all just idle talk, you know people don't need much of a reason to talk, and Dorian really is such a gossip." She stopped before she began sounding like she was convincing herself more than him. Her hopes for a quick resolution were however trampled by the shocked expression on Solas' face, his skin paling and his lips thinning into a self-deprecating line.

"Dorian? He wasn't even anywhere close...So people have been talking enough for the gossip to reach him and even you on the short walk from the war table here. And I am to blame. Ithilvhen, I can't apologize enough." He shook his head with a pleading look in his eyes. She separated from him and took a few steps around, coming back to stand in front of him. She believed herself to be quite a patient person, but for the moment, all her patience seemed to have expired, making her disregard the disapproval she knew Solas felt at her invoking the gods.

"For Creators' sake, Solas, what in the Void has happened? People talk about you flirting with Zevran, that’s it. And either them talking or you flirting is hardly a tragedy. If you were flirting at all that is, but I believe you had your reasons to if you did." She felt she was losing her calm and took a deep breath. "Solas, whatever happened, just please tell me. Even if it's bad. We'll work it out." He stepped closer and took her hands in his.

"Ithilvhen, I did not intentionally flirt with Zevran, except on one or two occasions when I think I might have." He shook his head. "In truth, I am not certain of anything except not meaning to flirt with the man, or show you any disrespect. I confess I failed at reading his motives, and when his dalliance started I felt at a loss. I...could not believe he truly was attracted to me." Solas looked confused and apologetic, and Ithilvhen's heart forgot any fears she might have had. She reached out to caress his cheek and gently tip his chin to make him face her.

"Ma nehn, the fact that others find you desirable does not come as a surprise to me at all. It is to be expected, and, in a way, it makes me proud." She was smiling into his eyes, her expression getting cheekier. "And neither should it puzzle you, because if it does, you are in fact insulting me by meaning I have poor taste in men." She was grinning at him daringly, and he eventually gave in, visibly relaxed, then quickly crouched and picked her up, so she was looking down at him from above, her hands on his shoulders.

"I could never complain of your taste in men, vhenan, even if it might not be the wisest." She squinted her eyes at him threateningly, and he claimed her mouth in a kiss by way of another apology. When he let her slide down to stand on her own, she kept clingling to him, coaxing another kiss. As their lips parted, they remained in place, foreheads pressed together.

"So I suppose, as Varric would put it, I screwed up." Solas looked up from below his brows and chuckled. Ithilvhen's laughter echoed up the rotunda, making the ravens above flap their wings and caw.

"No, ma lath, Varric would say you fucked up. He'd probably even say fucked up big time, but the thing is, he'd be wrong. It’s nothing we can't fix easily. You'll just need to give me a more detailed account of events. I think I know what we can do already, but I will run it by Leliana and Josephine. We will need their assistance." Solas nodded his agreement but there was a purpose in his expression now, which meant he had come to a decision as well.

"I will agree to any means of fixing this situation that you devise, vhenan, but I must start by talking to the man myself. That would not be right to drag it out longer." His gaze caught on the painting tools he had abandoned. He picked up the brush, tried stirring the paint in the bucket and exhaled sharply. Ithilvhen came up to him and ran her hand along his back in a soothing caress.

"Not really in the mood for painting now, are you?" Her fingers rested on the back of his neck, looping the cord of his necklace around them. He chuckled softly.

"Probably not. It's a shame my thoughtlessness led to this paint being spoilt as well. What a waste." Ithilvhen traced his ear from the pointy tip to the earlobe with a gentle finger and kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure there is a spell to preserve the paint, and you are very good at finding rare and difficult spells." He could not help his smirk and thanked her for a compliment with a sensual kiss, his tongue probing and swirling to intertwine with hers. Having taken a breath, Ithilvhen laughed mischievously.

"It's fascinating how talking about spells turns you on in a second." Solas was still holding on to her, his voice coming out in a low rumble as he was nuzzling at her neck. 

"Hmm, I will make sure to show you what exactly arouses me, vhenan. Do not forget I can be a tease too." The immediate proof of that was his teeth nipping at her neck, at the precise spot which made her knees buckle. A stifled moan escaped her lips and she bit on the lower one, to silence it or to prolongue the pleasure, she was not sure. Disentangling from his arms, she ran her fingers through her short hair, ruffling it.

"Solas, you have no idea how much I regret saying so, but our mutual teasing will have to wait. I am expected for another meeting quite soon, and I would like to discuss this matter with Leliana first." She walked away from him in what she hoped was a purposeful, businesslike way, but in truth her swaying hips betrayed quite a different desire.

Ithilvhen decided sitting at the desk would help her concentrate on the matters at hand, rather then let their hands explore the matter. She thought it was a horrible pun and snorted, and just shook her head at Solas' questioning gaze.

"So, let's go through the parts of your communication with Zevran that need to be addressed? Do you remember who witnessed it?" Solas started with the brief account of the events as he crouched and tried to stir the paint anew, pouring some magic into it. Ithilvhen did not comment much but at times she could hardly hide a smile. She understood her lover's discomfort and frustration but she also remembered her own multiple, and not exactly successful, attempts at courting Solas. It had all been her initiative at the beginning, and if she had not persisted, they would never have ended up together. In a way she felt almost sorry for Zevran, for his attentions not having a chance to be returned, but she would never warm up to the idea of sharing Solas either. 

She was in the middle of processing Solas' rendition of the scene in the tavern, wondering how she would have behaved had she been in Solas' place, and at this point being a tiniest bit jealous imagining Zevran's hand on Solas' arm, when someone knocked on the door. They both turned to see who it was, Solas with the paint brush still stroking the wall and Ithilvhen with a parchment she was feeling between her fingers with no intent of writing anything down. Solas came first into the newcomer's field of vision.

"Dear Solas, I was told I would find you here, but no one has mentioned I would find you in the process of creating such beauty." Zevran announced in a velvety voice as he stepped in and immediately headed towards Solas, all alluring smiles and feline moves. Ithilvhen only raised her brows at the Antivan's provocative entrance, but was spared having to cough to attract attention by Zevran finally catching a glimpse of her. The discovery did not seem to throw him in the least.

"Ah! Inquisitor. I do apologize for the intrusion. I hope I am not interrupting an important conversation, although I'm certain all Your Worship's meetings are of importance." He gave her a little bow, and she inclined her head in graceful acceptance.

"Hello Zevran. It is alright, we were finishing up." She stood up and came nearer to the men, positioning herself halfway between Zevran and Solas. Her maneouvre seemed not to have escaped the assassin's notice, but she remained in place. "Are you enjoying your time in Skyhold? I hope everything is to your liking." A grin stretched Zevran's lips.

"Oh yes, absolutely. And it keeps getting better. These murals are an exceptional work of art. I do admire your talent and your sense of beauty, Solas." Ithilvhen saw the array of different emotions pass through Solas' face at the compliment, though to Zevran, who did not know Solas so intimately, it must have been just a quick little grimace.

"I...thank you. Although I fear you are being overly generous with your praise." As Solas put the brush down carefully on a piece of canvas on the floor, Zevran took a step closer to him. He was looking at the painted walls, but made a motion as if to touch Solas on his back. Ithilvhen was standing right there feeling completely invisible but in a strange way, amused and excited at the Antivan's advances towards her lover. Zevran went on.

"Oh no. From what I see your art deserves all the praise. Just as you," he faced Solas seeking eye contact, "deserve all the praise." His hand, which had been hanging in the air for a while, finally landed on Solas' back. Solas freed himself from the touch at the same time as Ithilvhen's breath came out as a hiss. She was caught anawares by her own reaction to the Antivan coming on so strong. Solas stepped to the side, clasped his hands behind his back, and cleared his throat. Zevran paused for a moment and then smiled.

"Now-now, you truly are shy, Solas. Or is it about me being too blunt in the Inquisitor's presence? I apologize if I've inconvenienced anyone." He looked at Ithilvhen, who opened her mouth but the words were not coming out yet, and back at Solas. She saw the resolve on his face as the whole situation was becoming embarrassing not only for himself but for her. He always did hid best to spare her any possible discomfort, and she knew he could not stand being the cause of it.

"Zevran, I must apologize, for I have apparently given you the wrong impression. I...cannot return your interest, I am sorry." Zevran did not look taken aback, but rather sceptical.

"Do you mean to tell me you have no interest in men? I am sorry but I would not think you lacking such experience?" Solas held his gaze when he replied.

"That is not the point I am trying to make. I do not only prefer women, but I am in fact involved with someone I do not wish to make unhappy in any way. They have my complete devotion and faithfulness." At that Zevran's smile turned a bit sad but did not wane completely.

"Ah. I see. I wonder if that someone feels the same. They are truly lucky." Ithilvhen cleared her throat and spoke even without trusting her voice not to betray her emotion.

"They do indeed. They would be me." Solas watched her in disbelief as she took his hand, more for comfort than proof. He probably thought it was unnecessary to disclose their relationship, that it might make her vulnerable, politically or otherwise. She was ready to take her chances and had it been for her to decide, she would have announced their relationship to all of Thedas. For the moment, one Antivan assassin counted. He took a literal step back and bowed slightly, still smiling.

"I beg your forgiveness. I'm afraid I can't help being outright and generous with my attentions, but I know to withdraw when they are unwelcome. I hope you will not hold a grudge." Ithilvhen shook her head, her hand still wrapped around Solas'.

"Of course not. There are no hard fellings between us. I hope. In fact, would you join us for dinner tonight? It will be a small company, just a few of the closest people, nothing formal. Leliana will be there of course."

"It would be my honour." He bowed to Ithilvhen again and extended his right hand to Solas with a warm and only slightly downcast smile.

"Friends then?" Solas managed to control his surprise and his brows lowered back down quickly as he inclined his head and shook the other elf's hand. Ithilvhen bit her lower lip mid-smile as her hand found its place on Solas' shoulder.

"I do not know what time it is, but I am definitely late for my meeting. I will see you both tonight. And Solas, would you please go to the Undercroft before dinner? Dagna sent a note about trying on the new armour." He took her hand still clinging to him and placed a kiss over her fingers.

"Of course, vhenan." Ithilvhen's eyes shone brightly at the endearment. There was no need to hide anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish:
> 
> Ma sa'lath - My one love  
> Ir abelas, vhenan - I am sorry, my heart.  
> Ma nehn - My joy  
> Ma lath - My love


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter, with a bit of innocent fun and a lot of shameless smut. :)) Thanks for reading everyone, your comments are always welcome!
> 
> Please mind the warning for rough sex/rough oral sex! All sex scenes start after the scene break.
> 
>  
> 
> A big thanks to HigheverRains and MostHopelessofRomantics for beta'ing. <3 <3

Solas stood with his back to the full-sized mirror, as apparently the light was falling the wrong way for him to face it, while Dagna worked, at the moment more a tailor than an arcanist. That fascinating dwarven woman not only possessed a long list of skills and talents, but a great taste in combining fabrics as well, both according to their practical properties and looks. Right now she was concerned with both, stitching the corners of his coat flaps up and to the side, thus getting them out of the way and revealing the lining made of a different fabric in contrasting colour. From what Solas could feel and see in his position, this new armour was turning out to be a remarkable piece.

"Don't move!" Dagna's command broke her own chattering and Solas' thoughts as she straightened up, pointing her index finger towards him, and rushed away. He did not intend to be sarcastic when he asked:

"Does shifting weight count as movement in this particular instance?" She was already out of sight, but he could hear her rummaging in the adjacent room. Her answer came with a giggle.

"Solas, you of all people know perfectly well that shifting is by definition movement, in any circumstances. But yes, you can. Shift away until I return. Her Worship would never forgive me for poking needles at you." A giggle and a pause. "She is so awfully sweet, isn't she? And I'm so happy for you two, you make it better somehow, all of it. Oh, where are you?! Ah! There! Got it! You know, a bear hide wouldn't do well on this armour, the colour and the texture're all wrong, and I don't really see you as a fennec fur kind of person, no offence." She reappeared brandishing a wolf pelt, a victorious grin on her face. "I knew I had a grey one. Would work best with your eyes." Solas felt intrigued and flattered she paid enough attention to know the colour of his eyes and made enough effort to make the armour match.

"Your individualized approach and attention to detail are commendable, Dagna. You should know they are greatly appreciated." He tried to bow ever so slightly not to be accused of shifting. She grinned in response.

"Oh you're most welcome. You're lovely to work with. You can't imagine all the drama when I craft for Dorian, haha. I love doing it though. And Madame de Fer, well, she just might be the cause of my first grey hairs." She shot him a sudden terrified look. "Please don't tell anyone I said that." Solas smiled at her.

"Your secret is safe with me." His unrestricted imagination had already brought an image to mind: Vivienne using a flashy, sparkly spell to instantly turn people's hair grey, and laughing maniacally at the results of her deed. He had to admit this fitting session turned out to be a lot more of a pleasant pastime than the ordeal he had previously expected. Not only because the gossip about him and Zevran that plagued Skyhold had apparently eluded Dagna completely, but because he genuinely enjoyed the company of the smart, witty, and knowledge hungry dwarf. He chuckled as he banished the scene with Vivienne from his mind, and Dagna continued.

"Not that your enemies will pay it much heed in battle, but you know, with how long you're stuck in it, easy-on-the-eyes armour would be nice, don't you think? And I'm sure Her Worship will approve. Whadda ya think?"

After smoothing the fur with her hand, she took it by the opposite ends and gave it a good shake. Solas' wide eyes were assisted by his lifted eyebrows in conveying his surprise.

"I trust your judgement in a lot of things, Dagna, but what are you doing?" She froze, looking up at the much taller man in front of her, tilted her head to the side and lowered her chin, which made her questioning expression look quite amusing.

"Oh! This?" She shook the pelt again, and he nodded. "To fluff it up." Solas gave another nod and decided not to get deeper into that line of conversation. She coughed politely to let him know something needed to be done.

"I'm short, remember? Grab that stool and sit for me, will you?" He did as he was bid and obeyed the arcanist's instructions to lift his arm or lower it, as she was walking around him in circles, arranging the pelt so that it lay over his right shoulder, across his back and on the left side of his waist, two ends meeting at the front.

"These sides will be held by the belt, but we need a clasp for the ends. Will you hold this here for me?" She shoved the connected pieces into his hands and marched off to the chest of drawers that was full of clasps and pins and buckles of all kinds. "I'm sure there must be a wolf fang somewhere here, just give me a moment!" At that remark his gaze lifted sharply from the fur he was stroking absentmindedly with his thumb. It was vastly peculiar how the dwarven arcanist seemed to have connected him with wolves.

At one point he almost started to suspect something. After all, Dagna was extremely well-read and knowledgeable. But then again, she probably would not have been able to contain her curiosity had she discovered his true identity. He shook his head in an argument with himself. It was due to the same very thing he admired about her, her meticulous attention to detail. There was no way the arcanist would not know the pendant he wore at all times was a wolf jaw bone. And it did not require much imagination to conclude he had to have some sort of affiliation with wolves.

Dagna was now busy threading a leather cord through the hole in the wolf fang.

"Almost done!" She promised as their eyes met, before they both looked towards the door the next moment. There was a murmur of several female voices outside, and when the door opened, Ithilvhen entered and stepped aside, holding the door to let Josephine and Cassandra pass. She was continuing their conversation.

"So yes, Josie, I admit you were right, the sitting plan for this dinner is a good idea after all. Now that Madame de Fer has invited herself to join us." Only then did she notice that the two women were paying her no attention at all, looking mesmerized by something in the far end of the room. Solas stood up to greet the ladies and waited for the moment his eyes met his lover's, when she finally looked in the direction her companions were just short of gaping. His heart warmed at a smile that lit up her face as she took in his form clad in the new piece of armour.

"Wow. Solas, you look amazing." She was heading towards him, positively beaming with happiness and...pride?

"I'm glad she said it." He heard Cassandra murmur as she was looking him over from head to toe and back again. He was still to see his full reflection, but judging by the ladies' reactions, although unexpected, it must have been...good? Josephine muttered something to Cassandra and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, slightly blushing. This was becoming interesting.

"Thank you, vhenan. You are most kind." His hand closed around Ithilvhen's as she approached him. Josephine's cheeks flushed quite red as he asked, "I'm sorry, Ambassador, I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

"Oh, it's just...I apologize. I do not wish to be blunt, but have you been exercising more lately?" Now he truly had no idea what the woman was talking about. Cassandra grunted as if annoyed at having to take matters in her hands.

"I believe Josephine means your thighs, Solas. They look quite muscular in this armour. And the Ambassador, or myself for that matter, have not had a chance to witness you in such a revealing cut of tunic. It's rather shorter than we're used to." Cassandra did not seem to be bothered by social conventions at this point and just kept staring at his legs. As well as all the other ladies present. It was Dagna who broke the silence cheerfully, after giving them some time to linger, he suspected.

"I thought it'd suit Solas' figure best. Don't you think, Your Worship?" Ithilvhen's eyes had a twinkle in them when she faced the arcanist.

"This just might be the best armour you have crafted so far, Dagna. I know all about its impressive properties, but I did not expect the looks to be on a par." The compliment had Dagna grinning.

"I...guess it is time I saw this masterpiece as well." Solas ventured and turned around to face the mirror. He did not consider himself vain, not anymore at any rate, but to say that this armour was flattering would be an understatement. The outer layer of the battlemage coat was made of silk the colour of pearl, which would shimmer in brighter light, the folds at the front and the lowered hood revealed the lining of dark blue samite. The wolf pelt wrapped around his upper body and held together by the belt accentuated the triangle of his broad shoulders and narrow hips. Under the coat he had on a tunic of a simple design, cut short at his hips, the slightly longer central front part allowing for relative decency. And...the ladies had been right about his thighs. The mail leggings he was wearing were made of very fine metal rings skillfully linked together to form a pattern which showed off his taut leg muscles, hugging them tightly. From the knee down his legs were wrapped in woven bindings of dark leather, leaving only his toes familiarly uncovered. The whole suit of armour was crafted with utmost quality and impeccable appearance. It reminded Solas greatly of ancient elvhen armour he used to wear in the days long past. The materials were wrong and crafting could not really compete but the techniques and schematics were very similar nonetheless. Dagna had indeed done an astonishing job in her studies. He might need to be more careful...His musings were interrupted by Seeker's cough. Solas hastily turned to the four women standing in a tight group.

"I beg your pardon, ladies. My most sincere praise on the job exquisitely done, Dagna." He bowed to the beaming dwarf and faced the rest of them, seeking eye contact with Ithilvhen. "Allow me just a few minutes to change and I shall accompany you all to dinner." The response was immediate and identical as the three women gasped.

"No!" As Solas was searching their faces for any explanation, Ithilvhen gave a tiny nervous giggle and spoke, presumably for all of them.

"Solas, why don't you remain in this armour throughout the dinner? It should be light and comfortable enough, should it not?" She looked at Dagna and the dwarf nodded vigorously in confirmation.

"Sure enough. And it does need to be tested. You might not exactly throw spells left and right at dinner but you'll get the feel of it, to tell me if anything needs to be tweaked? And you do look marvellous in it, if you don't mind me saying." Solas stood motionless, surrounded by four pairs of female eyes glued to him and saw no way to retreat. He had to submit to their collective will.

"So be it." He suppressed a smirk, giving a little nod instead, and offered his arm to Ithilvhen, who took it looking absolutely delighted.

***

"But the dinner's not over yet," she breathed out. Not even an inch away, they were so close that the tips of their noses brushed against each other. With her fingers on his cheek and her thumb pressing down his lower lip, there was no eye contact now; her heavy-lidded sultry gaze was fixed on his full mouth. She watched intently as he licked his lips, and gasped when his tongue darted over her thumb. Using the moment of distraction, he grabbed her by the shoulders and switched their positions, pressing Ithilvhen against the wall. Now Solas towered over her, one hand grasping at her hip and the other holding the back of her neck as he claimed her lips in a kiss both demanding and promising.

"I am not going back there." His voice rumbled as he gave her a moment to breathe, but did not let go. "You've been whetting my appetite all through the dinner, vhenan. With your sassy whispers," she shuddered at the paintbrush strokes of his lips against her ear, "and your salacious groping under the table," she gasped at the pressure of his hand sliding between her legs, "and I intend to do something about sating it." Now she demanded a kiss, her hands flying up to the back of his neck as she pressed her lips onto his, then darting down to palm his ass and pull his hips closer to hers when the kiss deepened. 

She discovered another amazing feature of Solas' new armour as her roaming hands moved to the front and centre and she realized the leggings were no constriction to his arousal. The mail only went around his legs and up the hips, secured on both sides of the waist, leaving the groin easily accessible. So access she did. Never breaking the kiss, her hands worked their way under the tunic to unlace his breeches, stroking his hardness in the process. Stuck halfway through, she grunted in frustration and squeezed a bit too hard, causing him to growl.

"Are you sure you want to play rough, vhenan?" He bit on her upper lip before allowing her to reply, as if giving a preview of what she would be agreeing to. Because agree she would. Her smalls were becoming soaked, and she was growing restless. She nodded, writhing against him.

"Yes, I want it rough. I want to feel you, Solas. Want you to fill me, to claim me, and I want everyone to know." She looked in his grey-blue eyes, dark and stormy now, heavy with lust, and lowered her gaze to his smile that bared teeth.

"If you so wish, vhenan. They will know." His mouth returned to conquering hers as he grabbed her legs and pulled them up around his hips, pressing her tightly against the wall. She locked her legs behind his back and reached up with her hands to clasp at the railing on the wall above. He smiled his approval at this new position and, holding her ass with one hand, snaked the other along her body, caressing from her stomach up. When his palm found her left breast, he kneeded through the fabric until her nipple hardened. Switching briefly to the other breast, he brought his attention back, pulling and rolling her left nipple between his fingers as she was writhing responsively in his arms.

Ithilvhen was filling the narrow corridor dimly lit by a few sconces with her moans. They had ended up in this corridor having slipped away from the others in the dining room which hosted their dinner. She initially thought they would just take a couple of minutes’ break from the social affair their dinner had become, with heavy stress on politics but also peppered with veiled sexual references. The corridor branched out into several more pathways of varying width and length, eventually bringing one either to the main hall, the kitchens, or to the series of winding stairs leading up to the still largely unrestored parts of the tower.

As it happened, they had not got far from the dining room and were currently in the kitchens area, thus Ithilvhen's arms were getting scratched by the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the railings she was holding on to. Not that she noticed. She had barely registered the smells, all until Solas crushed some herb between his fingers. She was not sure which herb it was and she did not really pay it much attention as at that moment Solas' other hand closed around her throat gently as he leaned in to kiss her. Switching from a long deep kiss to many quick teasing ones, he put a finger in her mouth, her lips closing around it as she sucked hungrily. He kept kissing her lips and the sensation of fullness was incredible. A thought floated around in her mind that this was probably the closest to the sensation of three people kissing. The idea sent an unexpected wave of heat between her legs. A second finger joined the first in her mouth, and she took them in deep, staring into his eyes as he voiced his pleasure. He licked his own fingers then adding to her moisture and using it to rub the dried herb onto her skin. Right after he had ripped her shirt open, freeing her heaving breasts.

It was crystal grace, she knew it now. They had used its fragrant essential oil before having discovered its effect of igniting the senses, but it proved just as enjoyable in this form. The heavy velvety scent filled the air around them, and the chemicals in the plant were making her skin even more sensitive. She heard Solas chuckle at her skin getting covered in goosebumps, but she did not open her eyes, the sensation too captivating. Solas' mouth found her nipple and as he was teasing it with his tongue, she moaned, not even trying to lower her voice.

They soon learnt that they had indeed been heard, when one of the doors further down creaked on its hinges, and someone enquired if anyone was there. Luckily, a bend in the corridor offered them immediate concealment, but the person was responsible, or curious enough to pursue the matter further as was heralded by their approaching steps. Ithilvhen quickly realized her wish for everyone to know about her relationship with Solas did not exactly include being seen in a dark corridor, her torn shirt revealing the pale skin of her breasts, and Solas' breeches half undone. Although he would have probably been able to master a dignified look even had he been caught completely naked, she did not wish to blush every time she saw a cook.

She grabbed Solas' hand and they darted in the opposite direction from the intruder, towards more doors. The elven lovers were swift and quiet. Ithilvhen loved roaming about, exploring Skyhold, and Solas and her often made little outings to discover more of its secrets. Still, she could not boast the knowledge of where each of those doors led. She paused in momentary hesitation, but a pull on her hand directed her to the second door on the right. She did not wonder where they would end up, but allowed Solas to lead her, the rush in her blood heightening all her senses.

To her amazement the door opened silently, although she could not say if it was due to Solas' magic, or someone in the hold doing a good job of oiling the hinges. As the door shut quietly behind them, they were plunged into complete darkness. She expected their escape to continue immediately, but instead she was pressed against the same door they had just entered, and her breath was stolen from her with a kiss.

Not that she was complaining. She could never complain about Solas being all over her, and right now the possibility of being discovered only made it all the more exhilarating. Solas' leg was placed between hers, as he lifted her arms up. He used the back of his other hand to feather along her breasts, coaxing a stifled moan from her parted lips. Suddenly, there was a flash of green behind her closed eyelids and she opened her eyes to a gentle flicker of veilfire in Solas' palm.

"Are you enjoying this little adventure, vhenan?" She nodded and tried to kiss him but he pulled back, still holding her hands above her head. Hovering over her, he teased with his lips just short of touching. When a whimper let her impatience known to him, he succumbed to the kiss and, thumbing her chin, enquired:

"Are you still up for it?" She was straddling his leg trying to quench the need for contact, and at first was not sure what he meant. Solas nuzzling at her neck was not helping her think either, but then he sank his teeth into the skin behind her ear, not strong enough to draw blood, but enough to make her shiver with excitement, and remember.

Her moaned "Yes!" was followed by a gasp of "Yes, yes, yes" as her lover's hand slapped across her breasts, just enough to make them bounce. A wave of desire surged through her, her smalls drenched. Opening her eyes, she saw veilfire lick at his and her skin as he palmed her breast softly to soothe the stinging sensation. It was surreal; unlike real fire, it did not burn, but the sparks dancing around her hardened peaks made her skin tingle. Her breath came out ruggedly.

"Solas, please." His raised brow was the question enough. "I want more. Now." He chuckled in response.

"I want you too, vhenan'ara." After a quick look around he transferred the veilfire from his palm to a torch on the wall nearby. Its light was enough for them to realize they were standing on a small platform which served as an entrance to narrow winding stairs leading up. These were not the intricate spiral seashells of stairs crafted from cast iron she had seen in Halamshiral, but she liked their sturdy stone structure, and their concealing narrowness. She grabbed Solas by the lapels of his coat and pushed him backwards. When his back hit the wall, she unbuckled his belt, which let the silk of his coat fall gently to his sides, allowing for easier access to his now bursting erection.

Now when she could see them, the laces on his breeches were undone in a moment, his cock twitching as she freed it. She went down on her knees and marvelled at the sight, biting her lower lip in anticipation. She began with a teasing swirl of her tongue around his tip, and looked up, seeking his reaction. His hungry gaze and open-mouthed panting told her he could wait no longer. Or he did not wish to wait. He grabbed the base of his shaft and pushed it into her mouth, groaning loudly as she tried to take his full length in.

Throwing his head back, he held on to the metal railing running along the wall with one hand and placed the other to the back of her head keeping her still. She savoured the feeling of him in her mouth, the feeling of him being in control of her, and the feeling of being in control of his pleasure in return. His fingers closed on her hair, which was only just long enough to hold. He started pulling gently, allowing her to release his throbbing length now dripping with her saliva, and then pushed slowly back. She caught the rhythm he wanted and was bobbing her head reverently, only wishing her hair had been longer, so he could twist it around his hand and...

She felt light-headed and burning with desire. To alter the pace, she let his cock slip out and ran her tongue along the underside, closing her lips over his sack, kissing her way up and nipping at the sensitive skin near the tip. Swallowing his length again, she held his balls in her hand, pressing the spot right behind them with two fingers. It made him groan in a husky, broken voice, and the signs of his pleasure sent her hand snaking down her own leggings to rub at her entrance.

She sensed he was close and had to hold onto his thighs when he moved away from the wall and grabbed her head with his both hands. Bucking into her, he fucked her mouth, and in a few swift thrusts, came with a loud groan she did not expect but was delighted to hear. He tried backing up but she held him in place, savouring every drop of his seed gliding down her throat.

He helped her up, gently wrapped his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss. She had swallowed all of it, but she wondered if he could taste the tang of his semen in her mouth. The thought tapped into the memory of something she had been meaning to ask him but had not had a chance yet. She gave her question a tentative introduction.

"Solas?" His first answer was a "Hm?" and his hands feeling down her back and eventually grabbing her bum.

"Rest assured," he started kneeding her bottom and nuzzling her neck as he spoke, " I will see to your desires without delay, vhenan." He could not see she was smiling wickedly.

"Oh I expected as much." Her cheeky tone made him face her and see her grinning. "But I have a question first." His eyebrows lifted quizzically, but a smile was forming in the corners of his lips.

"In your conversation with Zevran in the rotunda earlier," she paused to let him prepare for what was coming, "he alluded to you having experience with men. Sooo, does it mean you have..?" She left her question with a loose end, too eager to hear the answer. She received a relaxed, confident smirk in response.

"I was young once. And curious." There was no way she would let it go now. She could not explain to herself why exactly she was blushing.

"You are still curious." He tipped her chin up with his fingers and looked at her with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"But no longer young. And my curiosity in that particular area had been sated long ago. I told Zevran the truth. I have no interest in men." She was holding his gaze but her hands were all over his chest and stomach, raking over lean muscles.

"And women?" He chuckled at her persistence.

"There is one. Do you think she is ready for me to quench her desires?" His low rumbling voice was doing a good job of building her desires up.

"Oh yes. I'm quite sure she wants you to fuck her right now." She looked down and found his cock being at half-mast again already quite rewarding.

"Worry not." He stood so close to her now she had to tip her head back to look up at him, and his hot breath on her face gave her shivers. "I shall leave your tight little cunt properly fucked." She gasped with shock at both, hearing such obscenities from him and at finding it so incredibly arousing. "But..." His every pause was making her insane with want. "We left the dinner before desserts, so I intend to have a taste of you first." He started pulling off her leggings, skillfully avoiding touching the places where she wanted him most.

"Hmm, I guess I will not complain if I come more than once," she moaned a weak tease as she was standing there only in her torn shirt, watching him remove his coat. He paused at her remark, descended a few steps and lay down the coat over them with a smirk, and only then looked up at Ithilvhen.

"If?" He only raised a brow, but that was more than enough. She settled on the steps, resting on her forearms behind her back, the coat wonderfully slick and soft beneath her skin, and watched Solas kneel between her legs.

Having titillated around her folds, he rumbled contentedly at finding her so very wet when his finger sank into her slit. His tongue flicked over her clit once, coaxing a gasp from her, before continuing incredibly slowly. A louder gasp came with the realisation that he was drawing a glyph with his tongue, which almost brought her over the edge. She felt she would not last long and loudly voiced her appreciation when he slipped two more fingers in her at once. He knew exactly how to curve them to reach the spot of most intense pleasure, and had her arching her back in response in no time.

Breathing was becoming more difficult for Ithilvhen the longer he lapped at her core, and she was too close to her release to want it gentle. She opened her eyes for a moment and pleaded and demanded in a rugged voice, unable to form proper sentences.

"Faster, Solas, please...harder...Harder!" He obeyed her wishes, his deft fingers pounding into her, and his full lips sucking and licking just like she wanted him to. His other hand reached for her breast, to kneed it and tug at her nipple. Yes, yes, she thought but failed to speak, just like that. Her nipple was starting to hurt, but Solas was not letting it out of his grip, and that sensation- on the border of pain - was delightful. She started screaming out as her inner walls tightened, and lifted her hips off the steps, her climax crashing over her in blissful waves. Solas kept his fingers inside for just a while longer and withdrew them slowly, one by one, coaxing another tremble from her each time.

Ithilvhen was considering standing up as, though she had no love for human beds, lying limply on the stone stairs was too far removed from comfortable. Solas sat on a step next to her and pulled her by the shoulder to lean on him, and she was happy to. She loved that he was dragging his nails lightly over her back and that he was murmuring something into her hair, which was a too ancient Elvish for her to understand. She wanted closer contact and decided to sit on a lower step to settle between his legs, but when she attempted that, she felt that his body was far from relaxed. Of course. He had promised to fuck her properly, and she knew what his definition of proper entailed. She faced him with a grin.

"I see you are determined to make good on your promises." He looked quite satisfied with himself.

"Indeed. Come." He got up so quickly she wondered how his head did not spin, but made an effort to follow. He picked his coat and threw it over her shoulders, not bothering with fastening it or lacing his own breeches, and, holding a torch in one hand and Ithilvhen's hand in another, led her up the stairs.

The first landing was a broken piece of stone floor only large enough for them to stand and covered with rubble, so they went on up. The feeling of being on an adventure was gripping Ithilvhen anew, and she was getting more playful again, pinching Solas' butt cheeks and utterly enjoying the fact he could not retaliate while he was leading the way in that narrow spiral stairwell. He kept quiet for some time but after instead of pinching his bottom she slapped it with gusto and made him jolt a bit, he stopped. She was nimble, or lucky enough not to bump into him when he turned just in time to see the sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

"Vhenan?" He started, smiling charmingly, and she responded in kind. "You realize I will be returning all of your attentions?" Her wicked grin only widened.

"Oh I do hope so." He smirked and pushed her in front of himself, pressing the torch that was spreading soft green light of veilfire into her hand. She took it, looking straight into her lover's eyes and biting her lip in anticipation. She was waiting for him to spank her, but his punishment was, in fact, not giving her what she wanted. She knew he would not prolong her torture, and what she craved was almost upon her.

"We shall enter here." She heard Solas say when they were approaching another landing. This one revealed a small corridor with a door on each side. She darted a look at Solas.

"Shall we check both?" He shook his head.

"Choose one. We'll stay there no matter what." She took a step back to kiss his mischievous smile before making up her mind and reaching for the door handle on the left, her heart thumping with the thrill of it.

"Adventure it is."

The room she had chosen held few surprises, but what she illuminated with the torch made her sigh with relief at the promise of relative comfort. The walls were dry and mold-free, a small cabinet in the corner was inhabited by only a couple of regular-sized spiders minding their own business, and a settee standing at a weird angle in the middle of the room was only missing one arm. She moved towards it and felt Solas' body press against the back of her and his arms encircle her as she bent to examine it closer.

"Hm, this is curious. The upholstery looks completely new, as if someone has freshly changed it." She stood her foot carefully on the seat and pressed down, smiling cheekily back at Solas.

"Give me a hand?" She believed he knew her well enough to understand she wanted to try to stand on it and eventually most probably jump. Her habit of jumping on most beds and sofas in Skyhold to see how much dust would come out often had him exasperated, but he was quick to offer her a hand for safety. Or, to be exact, he pressed his both hands to her bum in an attempt to safeguard her from a fall. Truthfully, it was exactly what she had hoped he would do.

She climbed the settee and tested it with a couple of steps first, and when the only reaction she received were some harmless creaking noises, she gave it a jump. The amount of dust that appeared was mysteriously satisfying as there was next to nothing. She beamed at him as he took her by the waist and brought her down on the floor. He pried the torch from her hand to fix it on the sconce before starting a slow predatory walk towards her. He smirked at her biting her lip expectantly, and uttered:

"It will serve." At his approach she rolled her shoulder to let his coat slip, baring one breast through the torn shirt underneath. He trapped her lips in an ardent kiss and slid his hands down her shoulders, relieving her of the coat, then stepped back and lifted his arms. She took his meaning and helped him out if his tunic and then breeches, letting the mail leggings fall and pool at his feet with a soft clink as she unclasped them. There was not much of her own shirt left that still covered her body, but he held on to its hem anyway, using it to pull her closer. As she was melting into the kiss, he tugged at the hem, ripping it in half.

Solas turned Ithilvhen around, shed the remains of her shirt in one swift move and pushed her softly behind the settee. She felt his hand glide from her lower back upwards, and eventually press between her shoulder blades until she bent down, resting her hands on the back of the settee. The position left her ass up and exposed and she could hardly wait for what her lover would do next.

She closed her eyes, surrendering her sight in favour of feeling his touch more intensely. His fingers slowly raked from her heels up along the length of her legs, kneeded her bottom, and feathered her inner thighs, sending goosebumps all over her skin. The heat and wetness were making her writhe against him and spread her legs wider, inviting him to her core. He answered by sinking his teeth into the tight flesh of her butt cheek, soothing the pain by peppering her skin with light kisses. He pressed his mouth to her folds, coaxing them open with his tongue. Her readiness made him moan at the same time as she did.

"Solas, now, please." It seemed this time they were in agreement. He stood up swiftly, swirled her around, and offered her a taste of herself on his lips. Wrapping her fingers around his twitching cock to rub along his length, she let him lead her to the side of the settee, where as it turned out, the missing arm came in handy. Solas spread his coat on the seat and gathered the rest of the clothes on the floor, so when Ithilvhen went down on the floor where the sofa's arm would have been, her knees hit something soft. She settled, putting her weight in her forearms, but Solas had other plans. He lowered himself to kiss and nip at her neck, and repositioned her arms to make her lie down fully. She had long been impatient and was finally rewarded the next moment, when he spread her legs and entered her in one thrust. It would have been rough had she not been so wet and eager. Her gasp melted into a moan and his groan started building up as he positioned himself at an angle over her, pressed his hands onto her back and started pounding her with abandon.

She was pinned in place but it did not feel like a restriction, the position providing even more pleasure with the pressure on her breasts and her clit rubbing over the edge of the seat. Every thrust felt incredible, and it did not take long for her to feel another climax approaching. Solas had to be close too, as he then altered the pose slightly, spreading both their legs wider, and went on pounding into her even faster. Now his testis were slapping against her clit, an obscene noise marking each thrust, and it only took a few more before she screamed her release. Solas' followed the next moment, equally deep and vocal, and she felt his seed jetting into her.

He collapsed over her sweat-covered back, breathing heavily onto her ear, which made her shiver with pleasure once again, and made him chuckle. He rose up, helped Ithilvhen lie down comfortably, and rejoined her.

"A couple of my horribly uncomfortable Antivan pillows would not be amiss here now." She laughed softly, and he tucked his arm behind his head to form a comfortable place for her head. 

"How about this elven pillow?" He smirked, and she turned on her side to see his face.

"This is the best kind, ma sa'lath." She pulled up to place a sweet loving kiss on his lips. "I think we should work on refurbishing one of these rooms. To be used for emergencies."

"Mhm. Have I told you your thinking strategically is quite arousing?" By way of response, she scrambled over to stand on her knees above him, her arms crossed on her chest challengingly.

"What else do you find arousing, vhenan?" If asked, she would have admitted it was a calculated move. No one would ask of course as their little adventure was so much sweeter if it remained secret. Her calculation worked perfectly though. Solas' breath came out in a hiss at the sight of his seed trickling down her inner thigh.

"That," he croaked, pulling her in for a kiss, "you little minx." As she was lying with her cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, she sighed.

"I do have to return to my duties though. Everyone has surely left the dinner by now, but it would be wise to pry some information from Leliana. We still have no idea about Zevran's further intentions." She started getting up to her feet, her expression of bliss slowly being replaced with that of concentration on what needed to be done. Solas was threading his legs through his breeches, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I believe we might know more than you think, vhenan." She turned around quickly.

"What do you mean? Is there something you haven't told me?" He came up to her and tenderly took her hands into his.

"Nothing of the sort you're thinking now, vhenan. But I have reason to believe we need to enquire of Madame de Fer about Zevran's plans tomorrow morning. Considering they're spending the night together." Ithilvhen's face was a mask of astonishment. 

"What?..How do you know?"

"I saw them sneak out together, quite soon after we did." Her mouth was open as the realization was dawning on her.

"You saw them. Does that mean they saw us too?" He was finished with his leggings and as Ithilvhen was still standing there stark naked, he handed her his coat. 

"They did. But it was only a glimpse. And you were not yet disrobed at that moment, so your dignity is intact. They only got the general idea of what we were about to do. Do you mind?" She breathed out, shook her head and laughed. She was beaming when she looked up at him.

"Well, no. I did want everyone to know."

**Author's Note:**

> The Inquisitor here is my Ithilvhen Lavellan from "Pride of Arlathan", so herself and the relationships between the characters are consistent with that canon. 
> 
> Elvish:  
> vhenan: (my) heart  
> da'assan: little arrow  
> ma lath: my love  
> hahren: elder (term of respect)


End file.
